


(In)Sobriety

by rajkumari905



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 10:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rajkumari905/pseuds/rajkumari905
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cook tries to get David drunk for his 21st birthday, David is prepared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(In)Sobriety

David watched as the girl on the television screen tossed back a couple of shots and then determinedly approached the object of her affections. He, of course, smiled fondly at her, and put an arm protectively around her, taking care of her in her obviously intoxicated state.

It wasn't unlike the way Cook slung an arm around _him_ and the thought sent a pang through David. He stared longingly at the bottle of liquid courage sitting innocently on the table in front of the happy couple, who were now kissing, and _wow_ , they were really, um, enthusiastic about it, that was kind of gross. And yet oddly mesmerizing. David realized what he'd just thought and hurriedly looked away from them and back to the bottle. If only he could just...

But, no. And in any case, what if he turned out to be some other lame kind of drunk, a really embarrassing one, maybe, or _worse_ , one that blurted out all his secrets to everyone, particularly raging crushes on certain awesome rockers that had lasted for, let's see, _three years_ now.

It was too bad he couldn't get drunk but still be completely in control of his actions. That would be perfect. Or, really, he didn't need to be drunk, as long as everyone else (Cook) thought he was, so he'd have an excuse for being forward.

David froze suddenly.

Wait a minute...

What if... What if he _pretended_ to be drunk? David turned the idea over in his head musingly.

David's 21st birthday was in 9 days, and he just _knew_ that Cook would consider it his duty as David's best friend to try and get him drunk. What if he pretended to agree, since he was legal now and all, and somehow replaced his drinks with, um. Something else. That looked like alcohol, but wasn't. Or something.

And then! Then he could act as seductive as possible and blame it on the alcohol if it didn't work!

David was starting to get excited. If he played his cards right, this really could work. He'd have to do research, of course, so he'd be a convincing drunk, but... he could totally do this. Maybe. Or maybe it was the craziest idea he'd ever had.

David paused the TV and rewound so he could watch what the girl did more closely. Maybe he should take notes...

\-------------------------

David looked over his list. He'd watched several movies and dozens of Youtube videos and read several "How to Act Drunk" guides on the internet over the past 8 days. He'd also spent hours practicing being drunk in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to make his eyes look wide and dazed and dopey. At the same time, though, he wanted to look kind of seductive, so he'd also found some pictures of hot people and practiced making sexy faces in the mirror, but that usually resulted in him just, kind of. Leaving the bathroom in horror. Because really, his face just didn't do sexy, apparently.

Cook's face, though. Cook's face did sexy. Cook's face did sexy _all the time_. Cook's face's _default_ was sexy. Cook's face... David could spend hours thinking about Cook's face.

But anyways, David didn't have much time left. Cook was going to come pick him up to take him out to dinner in half an hour. He read over the list one more time.

 

How to Act Drunk:

1) Let your eyes glaze.

2) Be nonchalant. (Nonchalant means relaxed and cool. Like Cook.)

3) ~~Curse randomly.~~

4) Deny being drunk.

5) Slump.

6) Lose your balance.

7) Lie down on steps. ????

8) Speak slowly.

9) Slur your speech.

10) Repeat things.

11) Be random and incoherent. (That one should be easy.)

12) Be cheerful and enthusiastic.

13) Laugh a lot.

14) Be touchy feely. (THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT ONE!)

15) ~~Take off random articles of clothing.~~ (Maybe.)

 

David bit his lip, nodded once, and then turned the list over. On the back, he'd made another list.

 

How to ~~Be Sexy~~ ~~Act Seductive~~ Make Cook like Me:

1) Make sure you look good. Appearance is key.

2) Use nice cologne, but not too much. Make sure you get close enough that he can smell it.

3) Make sure your breath smells nice.

4) Compliment him on personal things.

5) Maintain eye contact.

6) Bend to pick things up in front of him.

7) Get close.

8) Whisper in his ear.

9) Find any excuse to touch him, particularly on his shoulders, hair, face, or neck.

10) Give him a massage.

 

This list was much less annotated than the first, primarily because just _looking_ at it made David start to blush. But he was going to have to get over that, because tonight (oh my _gosh_ ) he was going to do those, those things. To Cook.

Oh gosh.

David checked the clock. Fifteen minutes left. He checked over his outfit nervously. He was dressed in tight black pants (too tight, if you asked him, but Carly had said that they made him look "ridiculously hot" so he was wearing them) and, go figure, a tight, dark green button-down top with a thin black tie. He played with the hem a bit, resisting the urge to change it again. He'd already changed, like, ten times though. But maybe the red would be better? He kind of remembered this one time that he'd _thought_ he'd seen Cook looking at him kind of appreciatively when he was wearing red. He'd probably imagined it though. Wishful thinking, or something like that. But... Okay, he was going to change.

He took the stairs three at a time, kind of panicking _just a little_ , and threw open his closet. Luckily, the red shirt was right where he'd left it the last time he'd taken it off (about half an hour ago), carefully hung up next to the blue and white ones. He switched shirts quickly and retied his tie carefully. He was examining himself critically in the mirror (maybe he should change into the white shirt?) and nitpicking at his hair (the one stupid tuft of it would _not_ stop sticking up randomly) when he heard the doorbell ring.

He freaked out for a moment and then took a deep breath. This was it. He double-checked his cologne, something new and fancy that he couldn't pronounce, straightened his tie, and made sure he had some mints in his pocket. Then he grabbed his phone and headed downstairs.

He opened the front door, grinning automatically when he saw Cook and trying not to look completely stupefied because Cook looked _good_ , in an effortless sort of way. His hair was perfectly styled and he, oh gosh, was wearing that white collared shirt that looked really good on him (good thing David hadn't worn the white one), and the _top two buttons were unbuttoned_. David hurriedly dragged his eyes away from the patch of skin visible and looked Cook in the eye. Cook grinned at him crookedly. David tried _really_ hard not to melt. He failed.

"Looking good, Archuleta."

Cook engulfed him in a hug, and whispered, "Happy birthday, Arch," into his ear, and David's stomach flip-flopped and he barely managed to mumble his thanks. Get it together, David, he scolded himself.

As they were walking to the car, Cook glanced at him. "New cologne, huh? Very nice."

David tried not to be too excited that Cook had noticed. Once they were in the car and driving to the restaurant, David managed to relax a little. Cook was awesome at putting him at ease, always had been.

The restaurant was really fancy and nice, and David was already having a really good time. Cook raised an eyebrow when he ordered ice tea, but didn't comment. David worried briefly that Cook was going to be unpredictable and _not_ try to get him drunk, and all his planning would be for nothing. But later, when he was poking suspiciously at his food (he hadn't recognized, like, _anything_ on the menu, and he'd debated between a fancy chicken dish or a fancy hamburger-like dish or a fancy fish dish for a while, and asked Cook what he thought. Cook had shrugged, just as mystified as he was, and he'd giggled and chosen something at random, and now he had no clue what he was eating), Cook tilted his wine glass in David's direction.

"Want some?"

David blushed slightly and shook his head, and Cook sighed dramatically. "We're going to work on that, I hope you know."

The rest of the dinner passed without incident, and David was not only relaxed but also mentally prepared for what he was going to do that evening. He could totally do this. (Maybe.)

As they were walking back to the car, Cook said casually, "Your birthday present's in the trunk. And we still have to celebrate your 21st birthday _properly_."

David made a face at Cook, but secretly he was ecstatic that his plans were falling into place. Cook wouldn't know what hit him. (Maybe.)

\-----------------------

David struggled to open the door without dropping the heavy case that Cook had made him carry. He glanced suspiciously back at Cook who was carrying his present, which was, like, ginormous, in his arms. David was already burning with curiosity about what it was.

When he finally managed to open the door, they made their way over to the living room. David set his case aside, eyes on the present that Cook was still holding. Smirking, Cook set the present down gently on the other side of the room and then plopped down on the sofa. Still looking longingly at the present (no, really, it was _huge_ , and probably _really_ awesome), David sat down next to Cook, who was grinning at him mischievously. He had that look in his eyes that always made David nervous, and for good reason! Like the one time he'd thrown _underwear_ at David, and it had been _so gross_ , and Cook hadn't stopped laughing for, like, a _week_ , and he _still_ brought it up every now and then.

Cook opened the case and, and oh my _gosh_ , started to unpack bottles. Lots of bottles, and shot glasses too, and normal glasses, and _oh my gosh, more_ bottles. David counted _seven_ different types of alcohol, plus some other random things, like juice and soda.

Clearly he wasn't the only one who'd been planning ahead for tonight.

David wasn't completely faking the deer-in-headlights look that he directed at Cook.

It was a good thing he was prepared. Part of his preparation had been to obtain lots of bottles of alcohol and fill them with liquids that _looked_ like their normal contents but were really just colored water. Now all he had to do was switch one out.

Cook laughed at his alarmed look and tossed an arm over his shoulders. "Alright, Archie. Want to open your present?"

Momentarily distracted, David beamed and nodded and started to get up, only to be pulled backwards by the back of his shirt with a "Not so fast". He stumbled and fell, mostly on top of Cook (who was warm and solid underneath him, oh gosh), and, blushing furiously, said "Um?"

"You don't get to open your present until you're nice and drunk."

David sputtered at Cook (he wasn't a bad actor, okay, Miranda Crosgrove and Miley Cyrus could attest to that). "But, um, I don't. That's. Um."

Cook's face softened. "C'mon David. It's your 21st birthday. You're legal now. You've got to try it at least once. And what better time than with the coolest guy you know, who just happens to have lots of experience?"

David bit his lip, pretending to be unsure. "I'll just embarrass myself," he mumbled, avoiding Cook's gaze.

"Hey," Cook said, "you've got nothing to be embarrassed about, okay?"

David was silent for a long moment, and then he said quietly, "Okay. But only if you _don't_ drink."

He was pretty sure that Cook would be able to tell the difference between fake alcohol and real alcohol.

Cook raised an eyebrow at him, clearly taken aback. After a moment, he shrugged. "You've got yourself a deal, Archuleta."

Cook was reaching for a bottle when David blurted, "Can I choose?"

Cook raised an eyebrow at him _again_ (he should really stop doing that, his face could get stuck like that) (and also, it was _really_ hot, and it kind of messed with David's ability to think clearly), but nodded.

David chose a bottle of vodka that he knew for a fact he had a replacement for, and then, to his horror, Cook opened the bottle and began mixing him a drink. He hadn't had a chance to switch out the bottles yet! He watched mutely with wide eyes as Cook poured a bit of the vodka into a glass, followed by two different types of juice and then put the glass in front of him and looked at him expectantly.

"Um," he said helplessly. The fake vodka was hidden safely in the cabinet, and there was _no way_ he could switch out the bottles with Cook in the room.

"Go on."

David eyed the drink in front of him like it was a bomb or something. Finally he reached out and picked it up. To stall, he sniffed at it and examined it closely from all angles.

Finally Cook sighed. "Just drink it, Arch."

David raised the glass to his lips. And then lowered it again. And then, in desperation, he let the glass fall from his hand, watching it spill all over his carpet.

There was a beat of silence as both of them stared at the spilled drink. Then Cook cracked up.

"Um. Oops?" David attempted.

"Yeah, not even close." Cook said, still laughing. "You did that on purpose, Archuleta."

"Quick, Cook, go get paper towels from the kitchen on the other side of the house!"

Cook shook his head, still laughing, and gave him a strange look, but nevertheless got up to do so. As he made his way out of the room, Cook said, "Don't think you're off the hook. It won't be that easy."

As soon as he was out of sight, David dashed to the cabinet and grabbed his fake bottle, hiding the real one away. After he was done positioning the new bottle, he examined his handiwork and then nodded to himself. Cook would never know the difference. Then his gaze dropped to his spilled drink. His _carpet_. Oh well. Sacrifices had to be made. And he could attack it with that new carpet cleaner tomorrow, and hopefully the stain would go away. Maybe he could steam it out...

Cook returned with the paper towels and David carefully soaked up as much of the liquid as he could while Cook looked on amusedly. When he was satisfied, he threw the paper towels away and sat back down next to Cook. Cook shook his head at him while he reached for the bottle, and David held his breath as Cook poured a bit of it into a fresh glass. Cook didn't seem to notice anything off about it, and David sighed with relief as Cook added the juice and handed him the drink.

Cook must have interpreted his sigh as one of resignation because he clapped him on the shoulder and said, "Come on, Arch, you can do it."

David pretended to be reluctant, and gave Cook a pitiful look. Cook just smirked and inclined his head at the drink. David pouted at his drink, and then took a tiny sip. It tasted like... slightly watered down juice, kind of like punch, but David knew the reaction that was expected of him, and he made a disgusted face.

Cook laughed. "After a few more sips, you won't even taste it."

David frowned and took another sip, and then bit by bit, he finished the whole glass, with Cook watching him closely the whole time. When he was done, he set the glass down on the table with a loud thunk and looked at Cook. Cook looked back at him. "Well?"

"It was gross," David whined, and then, after a pause, "I feel the same."

Cook grinned. "See? No big deal."

He poured David another drink, this time adding a bit more of the 'vodka'. David decided when he was about halfway through it that it was time to start acting slightly tipsy. He set his unfinished drink down and loosened his tie.

"Boy, it's hot."

He pulled the tie completely off and, feeling himself flush, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. Hey, if Cook could do it, why couldn't he? He turned to Cook, who was staring at his collarbone. He raised his eyes lazily to meet David's, and David grinned at him, scooted just slightly closer, and picked up his drink. He drank the rest of it thirstily, and then set it down with another loud thunk. Then he started to giggle.

Cook chuckled. "What are you laughing at?"

David giggled harder. "It makes a funny noise."

Cook shook his head. "You're already getting tipsy."

David scrunched up his face. "No I'm not, I'm fine! Totally fine! One-hun-dred-per-cent-fine!"

"Okay, okay," Cook grinned. "Ready for another?"

David nodded and Cook poured him another drink, once again adding a bit more of the fake vodka. When David was finished with that drink, he casually unfastened another button of his shirt, smiling as Cook's eyes lost their focus for a moment.

"It's hot!" he said loudly, and stood up quickly.

"Whoops!" he said cheerfully as he swayed backwards violently, and Cook hurriedly stood up and caught him. "Where you going, Archie?"

David was silent for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed. "I don't remember!"

Cook laughed and sat back down, and David sat down next to him, closer than before. After a moment, he started pulling on his shoes. "I. Can't. Get. Them. Off!" he whined, and Cook laughed again.

"Here let me help." He pulled David's shoes off and tossed them aside.

"Socks too?" David asked innocently, and Cook sighed dramatically. "Alright, alright."

When David was barefoot, he giggled, wiggling his toes happily. "I can help you!" he said brightly and slid to the floor clumsily.

"What? No, it's fine, Archie. I'm okay! Haha, _David_!"

David looked up at him from where he was pulling on Cook's shoes. "I'm helping!"

Cook rolled his eyes, a smile playing at his lips. "Okay, fine."

David hummed to himself as he pulled Cook's shoes and socks off and threw them to the side. Then he ran a hand through his hair, stood up unsteadily and fell on top of Cook.

"Hi," he said into Cook's shirt, his voice muffled.

"Hi," Cook said, pushing David back a bit, his voice slightly choked.

Instead of getting off of Cook completely, David stayed press close to him, resting his head on Cook's shoulder so that Cook could feel his breath on his neck. This wasn't that hard, actually, David decided. He was just letting himself do everything he'd always wanted to do. He stayed press close to Cook as he nursed his fourth drink.

"You smell good," David said breathily, grinning as Cook hesitated. "Thanks."

"I like your shirt," David continued, and he ran his hand along Cook's chest. "It's soft."

Before Cook could respond, David lifted his head from Cook's shoulder and said, "Guess what, Cook!"

"What?"

"I'm going to get a tattoo," he informed him solemnly.

Cook cracked up. "Oh really? Since when do you like tattoos?"

David pondered that for a moment. "Siiiiiiince right now. You have a tattoo! On your chest! Right there!" David prodded the place where Cook's tattoo was hidden by his shirt.

"Yeah, I do."

"Can I see it?"

Cook smiled indulgently and unbuttoned his shirt a bit more, exposing the bleeding heart on his chest. David bent close to examine it so that Cook could feel his breath on his skin. He brushed his fingers against it gently and then harder, until he was massaging the skin. Cook shifted a bit and bit back a moan. Abruptly, he lifted David off of him and slid away a few inches, so that they were no longer in contact, buttoning his shirt back up all the way.

David smiled innocently at him and scooted closer, putting his hand on Cook's thigh. Cook's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. David suppressed a grin, looking up at Cook with wide eyes.

"Fuck, I need a drink," Cook said abruptly and reached for the bottle.

 _Oh no._

"No, you're not allowed!" David said hurriedly, and grabbed the bottle away from him.

"C'mon Arch, just one." He traced his eyes down David's body, from his endearingly messy hair and flushed face to his unbuttoned shirt and bare feet. "I _need_ it."

"Nope, nope!" David said loudly and cheerily, pushing Cook's hand away as he reached for a shot glass. Cook opened another bottle, and David frowned. That one was real, but he didn't want Cook to have any reason to respond to him other than himself; he didn't want Cook to reciprocate any of David's advances just because he was an affectionate drunk. "None for you, all for me!"

Cook was still trying to pour himself a drink, and there wasn't much David could do to stop him, so, in desperation, he grabbed the shot that Cook had just poured, chirped "Mine!" and tossed it back.

... Or tried to. It was _so gross_ , and it was _burning_ , and _eww_ , why did people actually do this for _fun_?? He choked and coughed harshly, spilling about half. The only good thing that came out of it was that Cook was so busy laughing and pounding David on the back that he seemed to forget that he had need a drink.

"That was _gross_ ," David informed Cook, and Cook started laughing again.

"Let me pour you a chaser."

He poured David a glass of juice and watched him gulp it down thirstily, grinning fondly.

David turned around to face Cook and leaned close. "Your eyes are pretty," he said, keeping his eyes wide and dazed. Cook stared back, unmoving, his mouth slightly open. David touched Cook's neck gently and then pulled back a bit and Cook exhaled softly, still motionless.

"I'm going to the bathroom," he announced and stood up shakily. He was still clutching the empty shot glass and as he tottered unsteadily toward the bathroom, he dropped it. "Oops!"

He bent down to pick it up, lingering with his butt in the air (oh my gosh, he felt like such an idiot), and when he chanced a glance back at Cook, he was gratified to see that Cook was still staring at him, looking rather stupefied. David suppressed a grin and continued on his way.

"Ow!" he yelped, as he stumbled into the wall instead of going through the doorway, and the sound seemed to snap Cook out of his reverie. He sprang up and put his arm around David, steadying him.

"Let me help you."

David leaned on him heavily as they walked to the bathroom. Once there, Cook cleared his throat uncomfortably. "So, uh, I'll wait out here, okay?"

"Kay," David mumbled and stepped inside, closing the door heavily behind him, and then relaxed. So far, things were going exceedingly well, and David was very excited. He went to the bathroom, making sure to bang into things and yell "Ouch!" every minute or so. He grinned when Cook responded with a worried, "Are you okay?" every time.

He started to sing loudly to himself, giggling at his own daring, and when he emerged from the bathroom, Cook was waiting with his arms crossed. David walked straight into his chest, still giggling and humming alternatingly. Cook sighed and half-carried him back to the living room.

David cuddled up to him immediately, and, feeling brave, leaned in to whisper in his ear, "You have a nice mouth. I like it a lot. Um."

Then he flushed, because, um, that had come out a bit more uncensored than he'd originally planned. Luckily, Cook just passed it off as drunkenness and gave him an unreadable look and muttered, "Thanks."

Still feeling brave, David flopped down so that his head was in Cook's lap, and grinned up at him. Cook froze for a moment, before relaxing and even stroking his hair gently for a brief moment.

"That feels nice," David said, closing his eyes. He smiled when Cook continued to run his hand through his hair.

He opened his eyes, and turned his head, and oh. Oh my gosh, Cook's crotch was like, right there. David peeked at it, blushing, noting that it looked kind of, um. Bulge-y, maybe? David debated whether rolling on top of it (oh my _gosh_ , what was he thinking?) would be too much. He shifted his head slightly closer experimentally, and Cook squawked and pushed David into a sitting position. He was facing away from Cook now, and he scooted backwards until his butt was pressed to the side of Cook's leg, and looked over his shoulder at Cook, grinning.

"You're not going to remember this tomorrow," Cook said with a tinge of desperation. "You're not going to remember this tomorrow." He looked again at David's face, flushed from his daring rather than the alcohol as Cook had assumed. "There's no fucking way."

"'member what?" David asked breathlessly, tilting his head up at Cook.

Cook made a sort of strangled noise from deep within his throat, and then one slightly trembling hand was sliding into David's hair, and the other was resting on his chin, warm against his skin, turning his head more in Cook's direction. And then, Cook was leaning forward and, and _kissing_ him, oh... Oh my gosh. Oh my _gosh_.

Cook's mouth was warm too, and his eyes were closed, so David closed his too and leaned closer to Cook, who responded by groaning and pulling David sideways into his lap. David felt tingly all over, and his stomach was fluttering, and Cook's hands on his face and back were big and warm, and when he tilted his head _just_ so, _oh_.

And oh my gosh, that thing he'd just felt against his lips, that was Cook's _tongue_. He opened his mouth automatically, and oh, _oh_ , Cook's tongue was, like, _magic_ or something. It had to be, to make him feel like this. He had to get closer, he _had_ to, so he swung a leg over Cook's lap so that he was straddling his legs. Cook made a surprised noise, but when David leaned up and looped his arms around his neck, he quickly adjusted and pulled David closer with an arm around his waist.

David didn't really know what he was doing, but he definitely thought that unbuttoning Cook's shirt was a good idea, so he started at the top. He was about halfway done when Cook suddenly broke the kiss, saying, "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," and grabbed David's hand on his chest.

David blinked at him, not entirely faking the dazed look on his face or the pout that made its way to his lips. He leaned in to kiss Cook again, and Cook kissed him back for a few seconds before pulling away again. "But I want, um." David protested, trying to follow Cook's lips. Cook chuckled and then his face softened.

Cook stroked his cheek softly and said fondly, "David, you are _so_ drunk."

Ha, no I'm not! David wanted to say, but that would kind of ruin everything, so he didn't. Cook continued, "We're not doing anything you might regret tomorrow, okay?" David frowned slightly and thought about protesting, but it _was_ kind of sweet of Cook to be thinking of him, so instead he leaned forward and tucked his head under Cook's chin, sighing contentedly. Cook stayed perfectly still for a moment, and then his arms came up and wrapped tight around David.

"Oh, Arch. I hope you don't remember this tomorrow." It seemed like Cook was talking more to himself than to David, but David couldn't help responding.

"How come?" David asked worriedly.

"Because I don't want you to hate me for taking advantage of you."

"I could never hate you, Cook." Cook sighed, and David could tell he didn't believe him. He pulled away enough to look Cook in the eye. "I like you."

Cook met his gaze. "I like you too, Arch."

"No, but I _like_ you."

Cook smiled wryly as comprehension dawned on him. "You're also drunk, David."

David bit back a frustrated groan. It figured that this would come back to bite him. "I like you when I'm sober too, honest!"

Cook leaned closer, "Yeah?"

David pressed his forehead against Cook's. "Yeah."

Cook tilted his head up and kissed him again. David sighed into Cook's mouth, his eyes falling shut. Cook clutched at him as if he was going to disappear and David pressed as close to him as he could. Finally, something like ten minutes later, they pulled apart, and Cook kissed the side of David's jaw, and then his cheekbone, and then his temple. David laid his head on Cook's shoulder, feeling nothing but pure happiness.

After a little while, David yawned against Cook's neck, and Cook chuckled.

"Come on Archie, let's get you to bed."

David tried to push aside the excitement that those words instilled in him; Cook _totally_ didn't mean it like that, but, um. He kind of wished he did? Also, he didn't really want to move. So he didn't. When David made no motion to get up, Cook put his hands under David's legs and lifted him. David just burrowed his face into Cook's neck and wrapped his legs around Cook's waist and allowed himself to be carried to bed. When they entered David's room, half in hopes of changing Cook's mind, David threaded his hands into Cook's hair and kissed him again.

Cook made a noise that sounded like mmmmph? and kissed David back, hard. He stumbled the remaining few feet to David's bed and made to put him down, but David didn't let go of him, and he fell forward, just barely managing to avoid crushing David underneath him.

"You're staying the night, right?" David asked, still clinging to Cook's neck.

"I guess so," Cook said, surreptitiously trying to extricate himself from David's arms.

David tightened his grip. "With me?"

Cook paused. "David..."

"Please, Cook? Please?"

Cook sighed and crawled into the bed with David. As soon as he was close enough, David reached out and kissed him. He couldn't get enough of kissing, it was awesome. Cook kissed him back gently, but when David started on his buttons again, he pulled away.

"Sleep now, David."

"But I want-"

"Not today."

"But-"

Cook cupped David's face in his hands. "Please don't make this harder than it already is, David."

David frowned but assented and curled up in Cook's arms.

"Night, Cook."

"Goodnight."

Cook kept very still as David's breath evened out, stroking his back gently. When he was sure that David was asleep, he carefully slid out from underneath him. Before he left, he kissed David gently on the forehead, and stroked a hand through his hair. Then he went to go sleep in David's guest bedroom.

\------------------------------

The full events of the previous night came rushing back to David the moment he opened his eyes, and he couldn't keep the smile off of his face. The dinner, the fake drinking, but most of all _the kissing_ , oh my gosh! Cook wasn't there, though, he must've gotten up already. David bounced out of bed, still beaming. He was almost out the door when he had a thought and made a detour to the bathroom to brush his teeth, just in case. Then he bounded out of the room. He checked the kitchen first, but no one was there. The living room was also empty. Stumped, he peeked outside to make sure that Cook's car was still there, which it was, much to David's relief.

A moment later he heard a noise from his guest bedroom, and excited once again, he bounced off to investigate.

Cook was making the bed (why was he in the guest bedroom?) and he looked surprised to see him, but David didn't spare a moment to wonder why. He flew into the room and threw his arms around Cook tightly.

"Morning!" he beamed. Cook hugged him back for a moment, before he said, "-the fuck?"

David blinked as Cook held him out at arms length by the shoulders and stared. David looked up at him, confused.

Finally Cook said, "Holy shit, you're not hungover at all!"

Oh my _heck_. "Um."

"You must be one of those freaky people who doesn't ever get hung over!"

"Oh, um, yes. That must be it."

He giggled nervously and hugged Cook again, hardly believing his luck.

Cook shook his head. "Figures. And here I was preparing to nurse you back to health."

"Guess I'm just lucky!" He paused and asked curiously, "Why are you sleeping in here? Weren't you in my room?"

Cook was silent for a moment, looking uncertainly at him and scratching the back of his head with one hand. "So, uh, how much of last night do you remember?"

David smiled, and stepped closer to Cook. "Enough."

"Yeah?" Cook said hopefully, looking oddly vulnerable.

David locked his arms around Cook's neck. "Yeah," and then he kissed him.

" _Now_ , can we, um." David breathed into Cook's ear, tugging on Cook's collar with one hand as Cook kissed along his jaw something like twenty minutes later.

Cook laughed at him, already turning him in the direction of the bed. He whispered in David's ear, "Fuck, we can do whatever you want, Arch."

David shivered. He liked the sound of that. A _lot_.

\---------------------------  
3 years later  
\---------------------------

David rolled over with a groan. His head was _killing_ him. And _why_ was the room so bright? It was only... David peered blearily at the clock and winced. 10 AM.

David buried his face back in his pillow, trying to hide from the offending sunlight which was peeking through the window. Cook snuffled a bit next to him and tossed an arm around him.

David whimpered quietly into the pillow. He really _should_ get up. Why had he slept so late? And why was his mouth _so dry_. And ouch, his head was _throbbing_. Maybe they had some aspirin in the medicine cabinet? He should probably make breakfast and _oh_ , oh, oh no.

David stumbled out of bed, almost fell over, and dashed to the bathroom where he proceeded to empty his stomach's contents into the toilet.

"Babe?"

He heard Cook yawning as he walked into the bathroom, and then an "Oh, fuck."

A moment later, David felt cool hands against the back of his neck and his forehead. David whimpered, resting his forehead on the cool porcelain of the toilet seat.

"Head hurts."

He felt Cook drop a kiss on the back of his head and then heard him say soothingly, "Just a sec, baby."

Then he flicked the light on. David moaned, screwing his eyes shut. "Turn it off!"

There was a moment of silence and then Cook flipped the light off. "Babe... Are you hung over?"

"Didn't drink. _Don't_ drink," David mumbled without lifting his head. At the moment, two word sentences were all he could manage.

"I know, baby. But, uh. I think I saw Mike adding something to the punch last night."

David lifted his head _way_ too fast and promptly groaned pitifully. Cook chuckled a bit despite himself. "Why didn't you tell me?" David demanded.

Cook shrugged. "I thought maybe you could use the destresser. And anyway, you only had like two glasses. Plus as far as I knew, you don't get hangovers."

"Oh. Um. About that. Funny story."

There was a pause, and then Cook said, "Okay, so let's get rid of this hangover and then we'll have a long talk, because I have a feeling you have some stuff to fill me in on."

\---------------------------

"-and that's what happened, and please don't be mad!"

There was a beat of silence. Then, Cook roared with laughter.

"Wait, wait, wait. Hahahaha, wait. Let me get this straight. Hahaha. You-haha, _you_. You _pretended,_ to be drunk. That whole night. You were pretending. The _entire_ night. Hahahaha. _You_."

"It's not _that_ funny," David huffed, but laughing was much preferable to yelling, so he was very relieved.

"So when you, hahaha, when you were all over my tattoo, you were _sober_?"

"Um." he hesitated, "Yes."

"Hahaha! And when you were trying to take off our shoes and socks?"

"Yes," David flushed.

"Haha, and when you kept banging into walls?"

"Yeah."

"And when you fell down on top of me, like three times? Hahaha, and when you put your head in my lap?"

" _Yes_ ," David said resignedly.

"And when you almost rolled over on my crotch?"

David buried his face in his hands, but Cook seemed to take that as enough of an answer because he cracked up again.

"And," David could hear the smirk in his voice, "when you told me I smelled good, and my eyes were pretty, and _you liked my mouth_?"

David raised his head from his hands indignantly. "Oh my gosh, do you remember every detail of that night?" he demanded, blushing furiously.

"Just the important ones," Cook smirked, and suddenly climbed on top of David, pushing him back down onto the sofa. "After all, it was the best night of my life."

David blushed more as Cook leaned down to nip at his earlobe. "So babe," Cook breathed into his ear after a moment. "Inquiring minds want to know... _Do_ you like my mouth?"

"Oh my gosh!" David huffed as Cook cracked up again. "No, I think it's a very bad mouth, actually. Not, um, hot at all."

"I think you're lying," Cook said softly against David's lips.

"Am _not_ ," David pouted, even as he raised his head to kiss Cook. Cook pulled out of reach.

"I think," he continued as if David hadn't spoken, "that my mouth drives you _crazy_."

As if proving a point, he bent his head and kissed David deeply. David made a pleased noise and kissed him back, but too soon, Cook was pulling away.

"You sneaky little-" he said, astonished as realization struck him. "You _seduced_ me."

"Um," David blushed.

"Oh my _god_. You- I can't even. Sweet, innocent David Archuleta made an evil genius plan to _seduce_ me."

"Um."

"And here I was thinking that I took advantage of you in your vulnerable drunken state."

"Um."

"I approve, Archuleta." He bent to suck on David's neck. "I approve highly."

David whimpered as Cook slid his hands up his shirt.

"So I guess it's my turn, huh?" Cook said in a low voice, punctuating his words with kisses.

"To what?" David asked breathily, arching up under Cook.

"To seduce you. I'm going to seduce you, David Archuleta." He grinned. "With my sexy mouth."

David smacked Cook's shoulder, giggling slightly, and Cook covered his mouth with his own.

Later, when they'd both been divested of their clothing and Cook had applied his very sexy mouth to various places on David's body, reducing him to a whimpering, moaning wreck, Cook whispered in David's ear. "So is my seduction working?"

It totally was.


End file.
